Starcrossed Lovers
by Locked
Summary: The flirting is over. This time, Jim means business. (Thank you to smorantiger, for writing Sherlock)
1. Chapter 1

**Starcrossed lovers**

Chapter 1

Jim Moriarty was in a towering temper. Why did everybody have to be so incredibly stupid? He had stormed out in the middle of a supposedly important meeting and now he was stalking the streets of London, looking for something, or better yet, someone, to break. When he spotted his favourite consulting detective his mood changed rapidly from grim to gleeful. Time for some fun.

Sherlock wasn't necessarily out on a case, but he was out deducing nonetheless. He meant to go out and actually _find _a case, but nothing good had turned up, and what little did, was quickly found dismissible. He wandered around, something he usually never did, taking in the feel of the cool air. It was odd, not having something to do. He was somewhat bored but found comfort, almost, in being completely relaxed, spending time doing nothing.

Jim followed Sherlock at a safe distance waiting for him to turn down a less crowded street. When the detective obliged, he quickly closed the gap between them, moved up alongside Sherlock, slid his arm through his, leaned into him and murmured. "Just keep walking."

Sherlock glanced at Moriarty. He rolled his eyes but a small smirk made its way onto his lips. At least this was a promise of something interesting.

Jim steered Sherlock down a side street and into a small pub, with only a few people. He indicated a table and went to get them both a pint. Sherlock sauntered to where he was directed, giving Jim a slight scoff before departing. He was completely unsure of what he wanted with him. Jim wasn't unreadable, not all the time anyways. But he wasn't predictable, either.

Jim brought the pints down and deposited one in front of Sherlock before sitting down across from him. He raised his own glass and nodded. Sherlock didn't touch his glass, just eyed the other suspiciously.

"Might I ask, what you want with me?"

Jim shrugged and drank. He wiped the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand and put down the glass. "I want to talk. Just us. No John, no bombs, no missile plans or big brothers."

Sherlock sipped at his drink, not really in the mood for it. "Well this sounds like fun." He replied nonchalantly. "What about?"

"You. Me. What we could accomplish together if I could just convince you, that you're on the wrong side in all of this." Jim smiled winningly.

"I could say the same about you." Sherlock placed his glass down again. He avoided looking at the criminal, keeping his eyes on the bubbles in his glass instead.

"By all means then: convince me!" Jim thought for a moment, then perked up as if a wonderful idea had just occurred to him. "Let's play a game! You tell me one reason why I should come over to your side, and then I'll give you one why you should join me. After each round we'll agree who made the best case, and we'll keep score." He chuckled, this could indeed be fun.

"Delightful." Sherlock kept his gaze down, not really in the mood for entertaining the madman, but having nothing better to do. "I'd say helping people is rather nice, but I don't do this to help people."

"That's not really a compelling reason. Are you gonna go with that? Because then I'll easily win the first round."

If Sherlock was going to go ahead with this, he needed to set some things straight first: "What happens to the loser?"

"Ooh," Jim perked up. This sounded like the detective was really going to play. He loved a good game, and he so rarely got to play with anyone even remotely his equal. "I don't know. Do you have any suggestions?"

"Not really, that's why I asked you." A smile tugged the corners of his lips. If he was going to play a game, he'd at least want to be playing for something worth winning.

"Okay. If you win, I'll keep a low profile this side of the channel for the next two months. No consulting, no bombing, nothing!" Jim held out his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. "But what will you give me if I win?"

"I probably wouldn't give you a thing. Suppose you should fight so you don't have to lose."

"I'm not doing this if there is nothing in it for me." Jim considered. "How about lending me your pet for a week?"

Sherlock sighed. sometimes Moriarty was predictable. "He would refuse."

"Not a problem."

"Not a problem if he refuses? Can't see how that's a win."

"As long as I have your word, you're not gonna come looking for him. Give me time to have my fun. Don't worry. I won't break him... much."

"Don't think I can promise you someone else."

Jim pouted... "Okay, so no pet..." then he smiled wickedly. "Oh, I know: if I win, I want... you." His grin made it quite obvious that this had been his intention all along.

Sherlock leaned back in his seat, looking Jim over. "I'm not doing any of your ridiculous work."

"That's not what I mean. If you ever join me, I want it to be by choice. Though after this you might be more inclined to." He smiled again. "No, what I want if I win is you. To do with whatever I want. For 24 hours. All mine." He raised a suggestive eyebrow and then laughed. "But if you're scared you're gonna lose then..."

Sherlock leaned forward, almost laughing. "I'm not scared, but I'm not going to choose to be on your side. So how do we weigh in points?"

"We could bring in an impartial judge, but that might get messy. We're just gonna have to be honest and agree, objectively, who makes the best argument."

"I'd say I'm a bit more honest than you." Sherlock wanted to win, of course but he wasn't entirely worried about losing this. To give himself over to Moriarty? The thought was rather _intriguing_...if that was the right word.

"You can trust me in this. When I play I never cheat. Winning is no fun if you cheat. So, you accept my terms? All of them?" He smiled eagerly.

"Suppose I do." He was tempted to stick out his hand to shake on it, but decided against it. "Go on."

"You start, remember?" Jim leaned back, arms crossed expectantly.

"Since I'm playing for the _good_ side I suppose, whether I decide I'm on a side or not... you wouldn't have to hide. I'm assuming hiding gets boring after a while... While on this side, when you _do_ have to hide, it's exciting."

Jim nodded. That was actually a good point. "Okay," he said and stretched dramatically. "My turn: if you were on my side, there would be no rules and regulations restricting you."

"True, but _I_ don't typically restrict myself with rules or regulations." Sherlock kept his face neutral, though he was amused. "Point for me or...?"

"Well you made a good point, but let me just add: you _are_ restricted by rules; those of your brother and those of Scotland Yard, because if you don't play along, they'll cut you off from the work you so desperately need. But I'll be nice and give you this one, because you're right: living in hiding can be quite a bitch sometimes." He pulled out a pen and a piece of paper, drew a line down the middle and made an 'x' on one side.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. Had he been planning this all along?

"How kind. You could let your talent show all the time, unless you like acting the fool... but suppose that goes back to hiding. You get to see the happy looks on everyone's faces when you've helped them." He tilted his head slightly, "But suppose you get that, too."

Jim laughed. "You're gonna have to do better than that. That was actually two points you made there, but since they were pretty weak, we can let them count as one."

Sherlock let a laugh slip through his lips. "Well aren't you being nice today?"

"I'm almost always nice. You just haven't met me on a good day. Okay, let me think. I don't wanna waste a good one on this..." He thought for a moment. "If you join me, you'll never have to deal with all the idiots. All the Andersons and Donovans, fat women with cheating husbands. You can pick and choose who you'll meet, having people to deal with the rest of the rabble."

"Point for you." Sherlock looked hard at Moriarty for a few moments, "You realize this game isn't going to influence either of us to switch sides. It's just for fun?"

"Let's just see how it goes," Jim smiled mischievously as he made an 'x' on the other side of the paper.

Sherlock thought for a moment, "People don't have to die. Justice doesn't require murder." He shrugged. "How many rounds in this game?"

"I don't know... Until one of us runs out of arguments? That will automatically give one point to the other, as long as they still have a valid argument, and then we tally the score?"

"Fair enough." He picked up his glass and took another drink, keeping eye contact this time.

"So, was the 'people don't have to die'-thing an argument, because then you don't really know me that well..."

"I'm going to have to stick to it. Obviously, that's what you do for a living and I'd rather not kill innocent people. So yes."

"Okay... then I'll model my response on it: killing people is not always a _necessary_ part of what I do. Most times it can easily be avoided. I might not be inclined to spare people's life, but with you beside me, you might very well persuade me, so: you on my side will save lives."

"I save lives on my side. Point for me, I think." He thought for a moment again, "If we disagree on who gets the point, what happens then?"

"We have to figure that out now, because I disagree on this one. Your argument for me to join your side is actually counterproductive: you're telling me, I wouldn't be allowed to kill, so that's a reason for me _not_ to join you. My argument is that you'll be saving lives one way or the other, so I should win this one."

"I think you just want to win." Sherlock almost had to fight to keep the smile from his face. "Am I wrong?"

"Of course I want to win." There was a hungry gleam in Jim's eyes. "Not only would a two month timeout put quite a dent in my business, but I do so very much want my prize. I still say I win, because your argument was invalid."

Sherlock hummed in response. "If you say so."

Jim smiled and made an 'x' on his side. "Go on," he encouraged.

"Suppose you win this one." He shrugged, he hated losing but they were fighting for the same cause almost, just under different people… losing wasn't so bad in this case, either… He'd probably have less fun if he won, to be honest.

"I'm ahead on points. You better make the next one good, or I'm gonna think you're not really trying," Jim raised a suggestive eyebrow. "You can always just give up, you know."

"I'm considering it," Sherlock said smugly, making Jim's eyebrows jump in pleased surprise. "I don't have many reasons why you should 'come to the good side' since I don't really consider myself _on_ a side... But since I certainly don't consider myself on the bad side, I guess that in this, I represent 'good'."

Jim smiled gleefully. "Honey I would love for you to give up. But on the other hand, that would mean an end to this delightful conversation. And I haven't quite given up on you yet."

"You're welcome to continue _trying _to persuade me all you want. I'd probably agree with most the things you have to say, in all honesty." He smirked slightly, eager to hear what Jim could come up with.

Jim considered. "I _do_ have some really good arguments saved, but I was really hoping you would entice me some more. It's almost like being wooed." He batted his eyes coquettishly.

Sherlock laughed at this, but Jim didn't seem to mind. "If I were trying to woo you, I'd complement your after shave or tie. But if you insist..."

"Oh, I do..."

"Of course." He rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid the only good one I had was hiding. But I can expand on it, I suppose: you wouldn't have to be hush-hush when it comes to gloating."

"Ooh that was a nice one. Never been good at being discrete." Jim thought for a moment. "I let you have two as one earlier. Will you do me the same courtesy with this?"

"Of course, only fair."

Jim smiled knowingly. "You _do _want me to win this, don't you? Okay number one: if you join me, I can help you keep off big brother's radar. No more interventions and interference. He'd be completely out of your life."

"And two?"

"You could bring John along."

"One, as much of a pain my brother can be, it's rather endearing at times. Two, John would never. Who do _you_ think deserves this one?"

"Oh come on. John is completely devoted to you _and_ he is addicted to adrenaline. If you stand beside me and call 'danger' he'll be joining us without a second thought."

"John has more morals than the both of us, though. He'd back out." Sherlock was sure of this. The thought was almost blasphemous.

"Wanna put it to the test?"

"I don't need to test it. I know him well enough."

"Then why not? Otherwise you can't dismiss my argument. I might be right."

"To test it, I'd have to come to your side. I'm not too keen on that idea."

Jim laughed. Okay, Sherlock had seen right through that one. He supposed he would have been a bit disappointed if it had been that easy. "Not completely. Here is how it would work: you do one job with me. Nothing harmful, just something terribly clever. It need never be public knowledge that you were involved. Then when it is done, you'll call John to you and ask him to join you. I'll even help you explain to him afterwards that it wasn't real. We can say I forced you." He flashed Sherlock his most seductive smile.

The thought was intriguing but John was all he had. "I'm going to have decline the offer."

"Then I win this one."

"You win because I said no?"

"Yes. That's basically how it works... On the other hand: I'd win as well if you said yes."

"Back to you just wanting to win. Would you like me to throw in the towel now or would you like to continue?"

Jim considered then shrugged, a little disappointed. "I think you're becoming stubborn, so I guess this is not gonna get much further anyway." He got to his feet. "Be ready to be picked up at seven. Wear something cute." And then he was out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

At seven o'clock a big black car with tinted windows pulled up in front of 221b Baker Street. Jim texted Sherlock: 'I would come up and get you, but I'm not sure your pet would be pleased.'

John was out on a date anyway, so it wouldn't have mattered much. Sherlock slipped on his coat and scarf. He hadn't dressed any differently than he would on any other day, almost out of spite. He exited his flat and opened the car door, not even looking inside before he slipped in.

Jim was waiting, dressed in one of his best suits. He smiled appreciatively at the sight of Sherlock. "Cute as a button, aren't you?"

"Aren't I just? Do the 24 hours start now?" He crossed his legs and rested his hands at his side, looking out the window.

Jim looked at the stopwatch in his hand. He pressed the button. "Now!" he said and signalled to the driver. The car pulled away from the curb and snaked its way through the busy London streets.

"Splendid." Sherlock kept his voice as nonchalant as he could. "What are we to do?"

"Oh, I have big plans. I think you'll be surprised, but I doubt you'll be disappointed."

Sherlock hummed. "But you're not going to tell me anything." He was quite excited about this whole thing, though he wouldn't admit it.

"Don't want to spoil any of the surprises." Jim leaned forward and picked a chilled bottle of champagne from somewhere in the front seat. Then he found two glasses, filled them and handed Sherlock one. "To a night of possibilities," he said, raising his own glass.

Sherlock looked over at Jim, raised his glass silently, and then sipped it. He nodded in approval of the taste.

The car pulled up in front of British Museum. Almost two hours after closing time, the building was dark and silent. Jim got out of the car and then reached in, to offer Sherlock his hand.

Sherlock smiled to himself for a moment before taking Jim's hand, letting him help him out. He didn't speak, though; he hadn't felt the need yet.

Jim led him around to a small door on the side of the building. It had a sign that said 'Staff only, no entrance' and a complicated looking keypad next to it. Jim let Sherlock's hand go and positioned himself, so he was obscuring the keypad from view. After a moment of fiddling, the door clicked and opened. "Stay here," Jim winked and slipped inside. After only a minute he popped his head out. "Okay, come on in."

Sherlock followed Jim in. He was curious and it showed.

"Tonight, no doors are closed to us," Jim declared, giggling at his own theatricality. Again he took Sherlock's hand and led him through the dimly lit corridors and galleries. "Don't worry about security. They won't be bothering us." Sensing a possible objection he added: "And no, they have not been harmed or threatened. Let's just say they've gotten a bit of a raise and some extra free time tonight."

Sherlock smiled "How thoughtful of you." He let Jim lead him, having no intention of resisting. He had lost the game and was going to let Jim have his fun. And he wasn't complaining. Jim was, after all, the most interesting person he knew.

In the gallery currently showing Spanish renaissance art, a table had been set for dinner for two. Jim gestured for Sherlock to take a seat, poured the expensive vintage wine and uncovered the plates, revealing delicately arranged fine French cuisine. Sherlock raised his eyebrows, impressed. "You have great taste, if you don't mind me saying." He hadn't been expecting something so _romantic _and was slightly caught off guard. He considered lowering his guard altogether, but was doubtful that was even possible.

When Sherlock was seated, Jim sat down as well and unfolded his napkin, placing it carefully in his lap. His table manners were impeccable when he wanted them to be, and tonight he was aiming to impress.

Sherlock took a bite of the food in front of him. He was expecting the best, and of course, it was. "So what brought you to come up with this?" He gestured loosely around, referring to the whole situation, the setting, the food, the wine.

"Oh, I've been wanting to do this for ages." Jim sipped his wine. "I just didn't have anybody special enough to share it with."

"Are you aiming to flatter me?"

"Is it working?"

Sherlock smiled. "Of course."

"Then yes, I am." Jim shot him one of his rare completely genuine smiles.

Sherlock too sipped his wine. "So, _ages_?" he smirked as he put down his glass and observed Jim. He paid close attention to every small move the man made.

"Are you asking me how long it's been since the last time I had a date?" Jim seemed amused by the question.

"Only if you've been waiting to take me out, since the last time you dated."

"Well," Jim squirmed a bit. "Can't say I have. You see, I've never really dated."

"And you're doing so well!" Sherlock mused. "Can't say I have either, though..."

"See? We're perfect for each other." Jim smiled. "Are you done? I've got so much more planned."

Sherlock looked at his half filled plate. Then he nodded. "I'm done whenever you say I am. 24 hours, remember?"

"Oh," Jim pouted. "Don't be like that. You make it sound like I'm forcing you."

"No, no." Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. "Whatever you want, yeah? That was the deal." He smiled softly.

Jim relaxed a little, but was still not convinced. "Would you rather we ended this now?"

"Not at all. I find you far more interesting than anything else I could be doing."

Jim beamed at him. "Good, the best is yet to come." Once again he held out his hand to Sherlock.

Sherlock took the hand, wrapping his own around it gently. It was rather nice having someone interested in impressing him. And Jim was definitely succeeding.

They took a different route through the museum but ended up at the same door. Once again Jim told Sherlock to wait and disappeared inside. This time he was gone for almost five minutes. When he returned he was carrying a memory stick. "Just had to clear the security footage. Keeping a copy though."

Sherlock laughed in relief. He had gotten slightly nervous waiting, and had started thinking that maybe Jim wasn't being sincere and this was all a game or something. "A copy of us?" He blushed slightly and looked away, not wanting to embarrass himself.

"Of course," Jim took Sherlock's hand, raised it and pressed a gentle kiss to the palm. Then he led him to the waiting car.

Sherlock blushed even more at the kiss and again let Jim lead him. He had been excited about this the moment Jim mentioned it earlier that day, but he hadn't anticipated how much he would be enjoying it. Perhaps it was the thrill of being with Jim, his _enemy_ and not knowing where he was taking him or what they were doing.

This time the car stopped in a small alley in a classy shopping district. Jim got and went to get something out of the boot of the car. Then he waited for Sherlock. "Are you coming?"

Sherlock stepped out of the car and looked around. "Well... this is... pleasant?"

"I hope you don't mind some exercise." Jim looked at him over his shoulder, as he set down the alley at a brisk pace.

Sherlock's long legs allowed him to catch up and keep pace with Jim. "Of course not." He was used to running around, after all. It was rather odd for a date, but he knew he wasn't going to be disappointed.

Jim stopped underneath a fire escape looking up at the half-raised ladder. "This is a bit embarrassing," he grinned sheepishly. "Do you think you can reach that? I'm not quite... tall enough."

Sherlock looked up and reached to pull it down. "Don't be embarrassed." He actually thought it was quite adorable.

Jim shot Sherlock a grateful smile and then scampered up the ladder. He went all the way to the top and then climbed nimbly up a drainpipe to the roof of the building. He looked down, expectantly.

"I'm guessing you want me to follow." Sherlock called up before starting the climb.

"If you think you can make it," Jim called back with an impish grin. Then he settled down and opened the black leather bag he had brought.

Sherlock walked up behind him, and peaked over his shoulder. "What's that?"

Jim held up a rather standard glass cutter and pointed at a skylight. "You want to do the honours?"

Sherlock considered. "Not particularly, but if you'd rather I did it..."

"I don't mind." Jim went to the window, but before he set to work, he pulled something small, almost like the remote for a car alarm out of his pocket. Holding the button down, he moved it along the frame, humming to himself. "There we go," he said, picked up the tool and cut a circular hole in the glass.

Sherlock watched as he worked. "Reason we're breaking in is...?"

"You'll see." Jim stuck his hand through the hole and fiddled with the latch. Carefully he opened the window, and then stuck his head and shoulders inside. When he came back up he was smiling eagerly. "Better let me go first. These alarms are a bit tricky." He pulled a rope out of the bag and secured it to a heavy pipe running along the roof. Then he went to the window and lowered himself inside.

Sherlock waited until Jim called and then followed. He looked around. "Well, this is interesting."

They were in an office on the top floor of one of London's most expensive jewellers. Jim beamed with pride, hoping Sherlock would be impressed.

Sherlock smiled at him. "What exactly do you have in mind, Jim?"

"Stop asking and just watch." He once again took Sherlock's hand and let him from the office down the stairs to the showroom. In the dim light all the display cases glittered and flashed with the precious stones and metals inside them. Jim let Sherlock to a glass pedestal in the middle of the room. Secure behind bulletproof glass lay an expensive looking fob watch, with an intricate lotus design and the name 'Fibonacci' on the front. "It takes two years to produce these," Jim explained. "They are currently sold for just under 1.5 million pounds."

Sherlock got very close to the glass and examined the watch. "It's lovely." Two years of work! Someone put a lot of care into this. He moved around the pedestal to look at it better and hummed to himself.

Jim fiddled with his small remote and then pressed the button again. There was a quiet whoosh of air and the top of the glass case slid to the side. Jim reached inside and carefully removed the watch.

Sherlock watched, not incredibly surprised that he had the ability to just take the watch. Seeing him actually do it was somehow impressive, though.

Jim turned and gently attached the chain to Sherlock's jacket before slipping the watch into his shirt pocket. He mumbled something about it working better with a vest. He then got on his toes and kissed Sherlock's cheek. "Don't worry, you can return it in a day or two. Just say you got the watch but the culprit escaped. You'll be a hero. Or you could always... keep it."

Sherlock smiled softly as Jim's lips touched his cheek. "Since it's a gift, keeping it would be best..." He wondered why he even considered this. The right thing to do would be to place it back in its spot, but he didn't touch it.

Jim glanced up at the security cameras. "Five minutes until they kick back in. We better get going. Feel like running?"

Sherlock smirked. "Not much of a choice."

Jim led him down to the ground floor and over to the glass doors. Using his remote he quickly had the automatic bars out of the way. He took off his jacket, wrapped it around his arm, and with a wicked grin smashed his elbow through the glass. The alarms wailed. "Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sherlock followed Jim through the hole he had cleared and they set off down the street towards the alley where the car was waiting. As he ran, Sherlock realised that he had just crossed over to Jim's side. That actually happened... not that he had intended to, but he just stole a very pricey watch. He barely held back a laugh as he ran.

Once they were both inside the car, the driver set off at breakneck speed. Jim laughed and leaned against Sherlock, trying to catch his breath.

"I suppose you've successfully pulled me to your side..." Sherlock said, still holding back his laughter. He didn't dare to admit how much fun he was having.

Jim looked at him. "So, how do you like it?"

"It's worth the visit."

Jim's smile froze slightly at the word 'visit'. He looked down at the torn jacket, still wrapped partly around his arm. Then he opened the window and threw it out. "Think I'm going to need a change of clothes." He looked Sherlock up and down, avoiding his eyes. "You're looking a bit rumpled too." He gave the driver an order and then settled back, with a fresh bottle of champagne. He poured again and handed Sherlock the glass.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Sherlock took the glass and sipped it. He looked out the window again, watching everything pass by, not really paying attention to what it was.

"Oh, no." Jim chuckled. "Wouldn't want you to miss anything. I got to make every minute of the next..." he glanced at the stopwatch, "...twenty and a half hours count."

"I'd hate to miss any of this," Sherlock said quietly. He held the glass without drinking. He tended to keep away from alcohol. It'd be a shame for him to drink too much and end up forgetting all of this tomorrow.

Soon after the car pulled up in front of a small tailor shop. Jim got out and held the door for Sherlock. A short grey haired man came out to greet them. Jim spoke to him in a Slavic sounding language and the man smiled warmly and showed them into the shop.

Sherlock quietly followed Jim into the shop and looked around. "This is really nice," he said softly to himself, just observing.

Two young men waiting in the shop immediately set to work as they entered. They removed Sherlock's coat and jacket, handling the watch very gently at a brisk order from Jim, and then started measuring him. Meanwhile the old man brought out a tailored three piece suit for Jim and he went behind a curtain to put it on.

Sherlock let them work without saying anything, letting them move him like a puppet. He felt slightly awkward when Jim left to put on his suit. He thought about everything but having them touch him. He even closed his eyes to think of something else.

Soon the young men left and an elderly woman emerged handing Sherlock a cup of tea. Jim reappeared, the suit fit him perfectly. Still the old tailor fussed a bit about it, making minute adjustments. Jim smiled at Sherlock. "Don't worry, it won't take long." And sure enough, soon one of the young men was back, handing Sherlock a dark grey three piece suit of very soft wool. Jim nodded towards the curtain. "Try it on."

Sherlock was a bit overwhelmed. He put his tea down on a small side table, took the suit behind the curtain and began undressing. He held the suit up and looked himself over in the mirror before putting it on. He felt awkward, it wasn't what he was used to wearing. He opened the curtain slowly, peaking his head out before emerging completely. "How does it look?"

Jim whistled in appreciation. He had, of course, let the tailor know in advance the general proportions of Sherlock's figure, so the suit had been almost finished before they arrived. The measuring had been only for the last details. He had not expected it to fit so perfectly.

The tailor rushed forward, deftly adjusting the length of the legs. But otherwise he could find nothing to fault. The old man turned to Jim, who placed both hands on his shoulders, thanked him profusely and hugged him. When he released him, the tailor had tears in his eyes. He said, in faltering English. "Only small pay for the debt we owe you."

Jim then went to Sherlock and attached the watch to the vest, adjusting the jacket. He took more time than was strictly needed, taking in just how impressive the detective looked right now.

Sherlock blushed slightly, not used to anyone giving his appearance that kind of attention.

Jim noticed the blush and stepped back, turning again to the tailor and his family, biding them goodnight. As Sherlock followed Jim out, he nodded his appreciation to the tailor and the others.

Jim took Sherlock by the hand and led him back to the car. The champagne bottle had been replaced by a fresh one, but Jim eyed it sceptically. "You want more?" he asked.

"Mmm... I'd better not." He eyed the bottle, hoping he wasn't offending Jim.

Jim smiled and reached over to take Sherlock's hand. Then he looked out the window, as the car wound its way through inner London. He checked the stopwatch. Five hours had already passed. He sighed.

Sherlock smiled softly and gripped Jim's hand. It was nice, holding hands. He stole a glance at Jim, admiring him, and sighed before looking out his window again.

It was past midnight, and the city was winding down. The car took them to the Thames near Canary Wharf. When they had gotten out, the car left. "Okay if we just walk a bit?" Jim asked.

"Of course." Sherlock kept his voice light. He didn't care much about what they did, he realised, he was just happy to spend time with Jim.

They set off towards Tower Bridge, Jim keeping his hands in his pockets, looking thoughtful and just a bit sad. Sherlock looked over at Jim. He wasn't good at having conversations, but he thought he could give it a try. "This has been nice."

"Yes," Jim answered distractedly. "It has." He looked out across the water.

Sherlock cleared his throat, he might as well just put it out there. "I'm not so great with communication... I don't really know what to say."

Jim stopped walking, turned to Sherlock and smiled. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything."

"Nothing?" Sherlock stopped and put his hands in his pockets to keep from getting cold. "You'd have me around even if I didn't say anything?"

"Yes, of course." Jim looked away. "It's not what you say that makes you so fucking special. It's the way you _see _things. The way you see me." His voice cracked as he said the last word.

Sherlock kept his eyes on Jim and his voice low. "I think you're brilliant..."

Jim turned his back to Sherlock. "Don't," he whispered.

Sherlock didn't move, unsure how to handle the situation. "I'm...sorry?" He wasn't sure if Jim even heard him... He wasn't sure if he should reach out and touch the other man or keep away. He wasn't sure how to handle anything like this. He walked up beside him, letting their arms touch lightly, making sure not to look at Jim.

Jim drew in a long shuddering breath. "I think we should call this off," he said.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows "...I thought we were having a good time..."

Jim looked at him, his eyes were red. "I'm having _too_ good a time. You need to go now."

"I... would rather not... I really felt like I could... just be... but if you really want me to..."

Jim looked at him questioningly. "Like you could just be what?"

"Just be... that's it. Just be." He chewed on his lip in thought, "Just not have to think about if I'm doing something right or wrong, I guess." This was difficult. He had never talked about the way he felt to anyone before. He wasn't even sure how to explain it. "Just be. Be... you know?"

Jim reached out and put his hand on Sherlock's cheek. "What are you saying?"

Sherlock turned his face into Jim's touch, being comforted was new, too... but it was nice. "I like having you around... on a personal level." He barely moved his lips, unsure again if Jim could even hear him. He gently put his hand over Jim's holding it in place, scared he might pull away.

"But that's not enough," Jim said as he did indeed attempt to remove his hand from Sherlock's face. "Don't you see? I've shown you my world tonight. Let you see what it can be like. But _I_ also saw something tonight. I saw how much brighter it can all be, how thrilling, with someone to share it with. That's what I want. All of it. Not just... being around you..."

"I have obligations, Jim. I can't just walk out on my life... At least let me stay the rest of however long we have left. Please don't make me leave yet."

"And then what? This time tomorrow night you'll be back in your little flat or running around London chasing criminals with that little friend of yours." Jim pulled his hand away and stared at Sherlock viciously. "Go to hell, Sherlock Holmes," and then he turned and walked away, back towards where the car had dropped them off.

Sherlock stood in place, dumbfounded for a few seconds before running after Jim. He caught up to him and grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "So that's it? Because I won't share the 'bad' side with you? Because of my 'little friend' and my 'little flat'. This is what I _know_ Jim... what I _am. _I can't just leave this... but if you don't want to see me, that's fine. Just know I had a really great time tonight, and that I wish things weren't the way they were." He let go of Jim, but didn't turn away. He wasn't going to turn away from Jim the way he turned from him. He wasn't going to make Jim feel the way it made him feel...

For a moment Jim's eyes were round and innocent like those of a child. Then he stepped back from Sherlock, his face screwed up in anger and he howled like a wounded animal, his eyes burning with madness for the first time that night. He reached inside his jacket and brought out a gun. Pointing it at Sherlock's chest he snarled. "Go. To. Hell."

Sherlock didn't so much as flinch. He didn't put up his hands, he stood just there as if a gun wasn't pointed at him. "Told you I wasn't good at talking..."

Jim laughed, all madness gone again in a flash, and then he turned and tossed the gun into the water. "I know," he said calmly. "Too bad, really." Then he went to him, cupped Sherlock's cheeks in both his hands and pulled him down to eye level. "This evening is over. If I keep you around, I'll end up hurting you. I'm a very sore loser, you know that."

"Isn't that what people do? Hurt each other..."

Jim rested his forehead against Sherlock's. "Is that what you want me to do? Hurt you?"

"If I said yes... would that stop this evening from being over?" His voice was soft and shaking slightly. He didn't know why, he just could not bear the thought of this being over. Not yet. Not like this. "Because I really don't want it to end..."

Jim sighed. "You just don't give up, do you? What more do you want from me?"

Sherlock chuckled softly. "Am I _supposed_ to give up?"

"That's what you want me to do, isn't it?"

"I like you the way you are, to be honest, I like how you try to turn me."

"But you still won't join me."

"And _you_ won't join _me_... but we were made for each other, yeah?"

Jim giggled, just a little hysterically. "Star-crossed lovers? Is that what we are?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Seems like it... think it'll end that way?"

"Killing ourselves over each other? Probably, yeah." Jim smiled. "Will it be worth it?"

"Probably." Sherlock smiled. He was happy that Jim was smiling again.

"So, what do you want to do now?"

Sherlock leaned slightly, nervously letting his lips brush over Jim's. It wasn't a kiss, just a touch. He wasn't sure why, but the touch seemed right, something he needed to do.

Jim whimpered, and almost crumpled against Sherlock. "You're killing me here, you know that?"

Sherlock smiled. "I know..." he sighed, "but that's what we do, isn't it?"

Jim rested his hands on the back of Sherlock's neck, his fingers tangling in the curls. "I suppose so."

Sherlock pulled his hands from his pockets and wrapped his arms around Jim, pulling him close, their bodies aligning. He should have felt unsure, nervous, but all that was washed away with Jim's touch. "Please _please_ let this be okay," he whispered softly before pressing his lips to Jim's, really kissing him this time.

Jim melted into the kiss, almost crushing their lips together. It lasted a long time. Finally he pulled back and gasping for air, he asked: "So, you don't have to be home before seven, right?"

(_end of part one_)


End file.
